


Clarity

by Astharoze



Category: RWBY
Genre: Literally So Many Characters, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astharoze/pseuds/Astharoze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Qrow Branwen sees the tall soldier from Atlas, he doesn't pay much attention. It's hard not to notice someone like that-- strikingly tall, handsome as hell, stern as Goodwitch on a bad day. The two run across each other time and again, protecting Remnant, fighting Grimm, growing older and wiser and somehow more volatile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, big multichapter fic time! I've never written anything this long entirely on my own before, so please be gentle with me, hah. I couldn't decide where to start with this ship, so I went with makin' up their backstory and how they met, how they grew closer, how they ended up arguing at the beginning of S3. I hope you guys enjoy it a lot! It'll have a slow start to get the ball rolling, but I promise it'll be worth it. 
> 
> I'm astharoze over on tumblr and on skype, and I'm always open to you guys!!

The first time he sees James Ironwood, he doesn't pay very close attention. It's the Vytal Festival, and all Qrow can bring himself to care about is reading rosters, watching battle montages, and learning the histories of the other huntsmen in training he's going up against. Leaning on Raven as they eat on the festival grounds, he could hardly give a damn about what the rest of his team is going on about-- until Raven jabs him in the side. 

His head tips up to see a group of men and women in white, dressed to kill in every sense. Atlesian military. They're here as a show of goodwill-- soldiers available should there be an outbreak of Grimm, a free trip to the festival for a bunch of graduated huntsman in the military. They’re all older than team STRQ, gathered by a vendor selling something deep fried and on a stick. Qrow’s eyes follow the four of them. Likely their team from their time in Atlas Academy. Two girls, two boys. One of them, taller than most any man Qrow’s seen in his life-- as tall as Priam from team PYRE, from Vacuo-- and yeah, he’s been reading too many files. They’ve got their weapons, always prepared for battle and nowhere to store them. 

What catches his eye is the rifle strapped to the big guy’s back. It’s a sturdy silver monster, almost at a height with Qrow, slung effortlessly over shoulders twice as broad as his own. Surely a guy that size can’t be a ranged fighter, can he? What good is all that mass if he’s gonna stick to the rear?

The Atlesian soldiers are gone just like that, being dragged along by an energetic girl at the front and the bear of a man at the back. Qrow’s eyes fall back to the scroll in his hands, flipping through PYRE’s list. “You think we’re gonna get the big guy and the swordsman, or the girl with the bow? I’m ruling out the short one.”

“No idea,” Raven chimes in, sipping at her drink and staring off into the sky. They’re the pair for the doubles match, agreed upon resoundingly by the rest of the team. Taiyang may be their leader, but Qrow and Raven have grown up back to back-- they make a formidable team. He flicks a french fry at her and she just rolls her eyes in return, the epitome of unamused teenage angst. “At least pretend to be interested. We’re in it to win it, sis.”

“I can think of a hundred things I’d rather be doing,” she hums, closing her eyes and ignoring th task at hand. Summer laughs, a rich, round sound that has all of them grinning, and regardless of the outcome of the fight they all know it’s going to be a good day.

The fight is a rush-- it’s the tall one and the girl with the sword, and they’re a damn menace-- darting around the stage in tandem. Not unlike team Branwen themselves. It’s a rush, and when a swiftly delivered backswing sends the girl flying from the ring, Qrow feels a wave of satisfaction at a match well won. 

The crowd is on fire-- they’re cheering and shouting, everyone’s on their feet, most of the people in the stands from Vale. Qrow’s grinning ear to ear, and Raven has that little smirk on her face that says she’s pleased with herself, stupidly huge sword stuck in the stadium at her side. They wave to the crowd, basking in it all and turning to get a good look at their teammates. Summer and Tai are halfway out the box, arms in the air, and Qrow can’t help but preen like the bird he is. 

His eyes settle on the little patch of white in the stands, drawn to it like a glimmer off metal when he’s using his semblance. There’s one head taller than the rest, the stern face he can barely make out from where he’s standing, but he’s staring right at Qrow. The huntsman in training gives a flash of a smile, a broader glint of teeth from his usual smirk, and--

And they make eye contact. He’s distracted for a moment, doesn’t hear the announcer cue them offstage, stuck staring at some guy in white he’s seen a grand total of twice. Something turns over in his stomach, and oh hell no. Not during the damn Vytal Festival.

Before he has a clue what’s happening, Raven has a hand around his arm, dragging him off stage. He’s still waving furiously, playing it up like he can’t get enough of the crowd, and when he glances back at the patch of white the tall guy’s staring intently off into space, focused on nothing.

Qrow isn’t yet a betting man, but he’d put down money the guy’s face got a little redder.

Huh.

\--

They’re filing out of the stadium, Cobalt ahead of them bouncing on the balls of her feet. James is the only one who has no trouble keeping up with her-- his strides are long and easy, taller than the rest of the team. The crush of people in on them makes him only slightly jittery, but they make their way out of the crowd and into fresh air just in time for a siren to cut the air like a knife. The soldiers set off at a dead sprint, moving as a team before their minds can catch up. Their sergeant barks orders, the only one with foresight to check his scroll and guide them to the gates of the city. 

Grimm.

James climbs a stairway three steps at a time, rifle slung low over his back to offset the full-tilt run he’s set at. He hears the shouts and roars, feels the ground shake under his feet. It’s not a massive flock of them-- the largest is a Taijitu class that’s slipping through lines of the rest. His boots skid across the stone as he fits a short-range headset over his ear, unloads the stand on his rifle, and drops to his belly to set the end of the gun on the edge of the wall. There’s an archer beside him, some huntress from Vale who doesn’t even question his presence. 

Outside of the wall, huntsmen, huntresses, students and teachers flood the grounds to hold back the oncoming tide of Grimm. He sees the combatants from the festival, professors he recognizes from Beacon, the soldiers of Atlas. It takes a short scan to find his own team, picking off a griffon as it dives for Sergeant Ross. He feels his blood start to pump hotter, pulse in his ears almost drowning out the sound of his teammates relaying plans through the headset. It’s easy work-- they’re made for this. Trained and tested, hardened like steel to keep humanity safe from the darkest monsters on the face of Remnant.

He doesn’t like fighting. But he has a skill, and he’s steady-- Steady like iron, his team likes to say. One of the surest shots in Atlas. He presses his cheek to the side of his rifle and breathes, focuses. A team from Vale-- the team from today’s match, and why are they even out there?-- makes its way to his own squadron. 

The students of Vale fight like a tornado-- he’s never seen someone fight with a scythe before, and the team is just as in tune and talented as they were on the stage. He’s distracted, eye pressed tight to the sight of his scope to watch the two clad in black and red fight side by side. Something grips his chest when a griffon dives for the young man-- he must be years James’ junior but fights off Grimm like an old hat. 

One quick shot drops it, and he sees the head of dusty black hair whip around and search for the source of the shot. His eyes lock on James’ through the scope and James feels frozen, rooted to the spot. His stomach is a pit of writhing snakes, caught in a trap by bright red eyes and a dangerous, foolhardy smirk. It makes his hand go cold and squeeze the grip of his rifle hard.

“--wood? Ironwood! Report, we’re clear.” 

“I’m clear. Heading down immediately,” he responds, hauling himself to his feet. The rifle slings back over his shoulder, and he sees them there on the field. White uniforms amidst two in black, one in white, one in yellow. He remembers the name now-- team STRQ. He’ll have to keep an eye out for them. And for that strange feeling in his stomach-- intimidation? Respect? He’s never felt that for another huntsman. It has James uneasy, hair on the back of his neck standing up as he watches the small black figures move towards the wall in tandem. 

\-- 

A griffon dropped to the ground two feet from him, dead as a doornail before it dissolved into nothingness. Qrow actually jumped, caught off guard, looking around wildly for what could’ve knocked something out of the air. He sees a glint of silver on top of the wall around the city, a man with a rifle. Not just a man with a rifle-- the soldier from before. A grin cracks across his face as he stares up at the wall, the sounds of the battle quieting, dissipating, leaving him in quiet for a long moment. Just staring. Enjoying the moment. There are butterflies in his stomach and he knows, Qrow is positive they’re not just from the fight. 

They make their way back to safety, the wave of Grimm gone and the night quieter than before the fight broke out. Atlesian military, huh? He’ll have to keep an eye out for tall men in white suits.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qrow and Raven get sent on a mission. A very attractive soldier is there. Qrow has a bad time.

The second time he meets James Ironwood, Qrow learns that snipers have more calloused hands than those who carry a sword.

 

“Congratulations on your excellent scores over the course of finals. You’ve all done exceptionally well, and as a team you’ve shown great promise as huntsman,” the headmaster speaks while still holding his mug of coffee, a serene smile on his face. Qrow’s pretty sure he’s never seen the guy with anything but that enigmatic little smile. It kind of pisses him off, someone in such a position of power acting like he knows everything. Sure, he’s their adviser, teacher, and trainer, but how omnipotent can one guy really be?

Qrow and Raven share a look. Practically share a brain, but then, who's counting. Ozpin has this little smirk on his face when Qrow makes eye contact with him again, and damn the guy’s infuriating. He stares off out the window behind the stupidly large desk made of glass and gears, and jeeze, thematic much? The headmaster drones on about their prowess as a team, the promise they show, the exemplary something or other, yadda yadda yadda. Qrow’s mind wanders to the pretty blond he saw at the club last night, and her even prettier boyfriend, before he's yanked back to attention by the sound of his name.

“--Qrow and Raven show a startling level of combat ingenuity in the face of emergency, as well. This is why I think your team would be well suited for this project.” 

Oh, fuck, he missed the homework, again. 

“Yessiree, Headmaster, we’re on it,” he mutters, saluting lazily. Raven shoots him another glare, this one a little more dangerous than the last time-- but how dangerous can it be if Ozpin is sending them out on it alone? They’re both amazing huntsman at this point. He has the utmost confidence in both of them. Their bossman wouldn’t send him anywhere that could get them well and truly dead, not this quick out of the gate. He flashes back another overconfident smirk and listens to Ozpin give Tai and Summer their orders. It sounds like they’re going out into the woods to find something in a cave, or something, and people have gone missing, whatever. Great.

Go to a place, fight something big, bring home a hostage or a civilian or a relic or whatever. It’s all the same against the Grimm. 

They get put on a train, then another train, Raven quiet the entire time in gentle mocking that Qrow wasn’t listening to the debrief-- thankfully his scroll has a file saved on it, giving him a map of the area, an outline of the expectations, the time they have to finish the mission. He gives his sister a delighted little fuck-you grin and kicks back to finish prepping.

Three naps, two meals, and one game of poker later they’re being dropped off in a remote location along the railway, nothing but their backpacks and weapons and each other. It’s a goddamn three-day hike to the cliff face where something big with claws carved up the rock, a threat of a massive Grimm that needs to be eradicated. All Qrow can think about is the three day hike. Greeeeaaaat. Day keeps gettin’ better. 

Qrow hates camping. Qrow hates the woods. He hates that they’re not just flying there- they both can, but instead they hike. Like heathens. Somehow they make it there, sleeping in trees and shitting in the woods like animals and Raven never once complains about having to wash her two goddamn feet of hair in a stream so Qrow doesn’t feel comfortable saying a word about how he probably smells like dirt, because she’d give him one of her looks and he’d stub his toe or fall on a tree branch or something. 

He tears up a little when he sees the white cliff face with burning, smoking claw marks gouged black into the stone. Finally. They can get to work.

 

Qrow is so distracted by the sight for his sore, sore eyes that he doesn’t notice Raven clotheslining him and slamming his beautiful face into the ground behind a bush. He’s smarter than to whine, body suddenly in combat mode, hand on the ground to prep him for a lunge. His sister shoves some leaves to the side, getting a good look out at whatever made the noise, and Qrow hears voices--

Voices? That ain’t Grimm. He squirms around and squints out between the leaves, and sees tall, broad, and shining-white-uniforms.

Atlesian soldiers. A tall one with a rifle, to be completely exact. Qrow sits up in the bush, leaves in his hair, and barks a laugh. “Well hey! If it ain’t the guys from the festival, the, uh, the Altesian...they don’t look happy to see us, Rave. Why don’t they look happy to see us?” He grins ear to ear, looking between his sister and the soldiers from Atlas.

“You’re here for the massive Grimm?”

“Of course we are,” she snaps, her hands settling on her hips defensively. The tallest soldier’s eyes snap between the pair of them, and there’s a moment of recollection. Two years have passed, but he still remembers holding that stare in the middle of the stadium. It makes the hair on the back of his neck raise. 

It also, of course, makes him miss Raven’s entire conversation. “So we’re in agreement, then?”

How does he always do that? “Agreement--?”

“We work as one unit. We’re going to comb the area and look for a trail. It has to leave some sort of trace, it’s huge,” the Atlesian sergeant says, voice clear and commanding. The big guy even stares. 

“Oh. Makes...sense,” he mutters in response, glancing at Raven. Then the big guy. Then the short girl with the huge sword and the blue hair. It’s gonna be a wild week.

They’re combing through the brush along the edges of the cliff, looking for claw marks, carcasses, broken tree branches or even a lovely sign that says giant wolverine Grimm this way, mind the gap, and have a merry weekend. Instead they find a whole lot of nothing and the sun is setting quick as the shattered moon can rise. The sergeant argues with Raven through aggressive glares and short three-word sentences on where they’ll sleep for the evening, and James is given first watch with the big guy, bless his quiet, handsome soul.

Oh yeah. It’s gonna be a good week. He grins at the soldier, who gives him an incredulous look like he’s maybe got something in his teeth, maybe grown a second head, and they settle at the mouth of the tiny outcropping of a cave carved into the wall of the cliff about ten feet off the ground.

“So, come here often?” he quips, and the soldier props his rifle against the stone beside him.

“Oh, sure. The middle of the woods. In Vale. I make trips here every summer,” and his voice is like hot tea on a cold day, cutting right through to Qrow’s stomach. And oh, shit.

“Ohh, sense of humor. That’s great. I was afraid I’d be stuck out here with the Princess of Gloom and a bunch of toy soldiers, but I got you and the chick with the crazy blue hair,” Qrow stretches out, propping his head on his arms as he grins at the taller man.

“We’re not all robots-- we’re people,” he mutters, clearly irritated by the stereotype. Qrow doesn’t like the sight of a frown on his face, sits forward a little and offers his hand. “Qrow Branwen.”

“James Ironwood,” the man responds, and looks Qrow dead in the eye when he does. The huntsman does his best not to shiver and cracks a wider grin, arching a brow.

“Ironwood, huh? So do you have iron woo--” 

James’ big broad hand is over his mouth, shutting him up immediately, and for a moment he thinks the guy’s shushing him because he sees something, but then he hears the sigh.

“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that joke this month?” he growls, in this voice like melted chocolate, and Qrow absolutely does not shudder. “A lot?”

“Thirty-eight times this month. Please don’t.”

“Got it. Dick sensitive. Understood.”  
“I think I get why your sister is your partner.”  
“Our stellar thematic coordination?”  
“You do enough talking for the both of you.”  
“Oh, I just like to fill the space. Is your hand done caressing my face, or are my three manly chin hairs leaving you in awe?”

 

James blinks with a little color finally creeping up his neck, and takes his hand back, folding it in his lap. The guy’s built huge and warm to boot, and despite the difference in their ages, looks as bashful as a teenager. Qrow’s fucked.

“So. Sniper. You’d think--  
“As big as I am, I’d be up front. With some sort of hammer, or shield. But we all have our fortes.”

And fuck Qrow if the guy’s eyes aren’t glittering in the goddamn moonlight when he smirks at Qrow. That ain’t fair. He didn’t sign up for a forest romance with a foreign soldier. He actually didn’t sign up for any of this, and here he is enjoying himself in a cave in the woods at one in the damn morning.

They talk off and on over the course of their shift, drag back to the fire and curl into blankets for the meager hours they get to sleep before heading off to hunt.

 

 

“Get the one in the -trees-, Qrow!” Raven literally snarls at him, from across the river, and he feels the tips of his ears burn. Usually they’re better synced than this, but a massive Creep slammed into a natural dam-- the river just unleashed all at once, splitting their group in half and forcing Qrwo to play catch-up with his sister, firing at the Griffins circling above her and the three members of the military that were on her side of the banks.

His head tilts to the side and there’s a slither of black, a flash of white, and the crack of a bullet before he’s even converted his weapon-- the snake drops motionless mid-rear and floats into nothingness as another follows its’ trail. This time Qrow is quicker, his scythe formed and in hand and cutting into the not-quite fleshy inky blackness that is the Taijitu. 

 

“Which way did it go?” he screams himself damn near hoarse.

“I don’t know! Why weren’t you _watching it_?”

“I was watching _you_!” Their voices carry over the rush of water, echoing in the woods as Ross’s hand cuts in front of Raven. Qrow could break it off, rage pricking up his spine.

“Enough! Rage and animosity draws them after us! We have to find a place this river is crossable. Opposite directions. Meet here. Am I clear?”

There’s a presence at Qrow’s side so suddenly it makes him jump, stare up at Ironwood as he hovers beside him. How the fuck is a guy that big that fucking quiet? “Right! Right, fine, got it, find a cross in the river or the Grimm the size of a fucking house! Sounds like a great plan, Rossy boy.”

James clears his throat and gives him a look, and that’s all Qrow can take before he stalks off upriver. Raven’s already storming in the opposite direction, and James stares at the woods and the sounds of Grimm responding to their emotions. He sighs, loud enough for Qrow to hear. Now he has the hot guy pissed at him and his sister’s across a fucking river. Great. Great!

Either two or three hours later, Qrow doesn’t know, he’s calmed down. Enough that they’re not being hunted, but not enough to make him cheerful about the massive hill they’re climbing. James Mr. Fucking Prim and Proper Ironwood has been all but silent the entire time, making a comment here and there, the total and polar opposite of his chatty self from the night before, and Qrow could scream as his foot slips in the mud. 

His face hits the turf, and that’s about when he does actually scream, because there’s water in his boots and when he scrambles up the last few feet to the top of the hill there’s the _fucking lake the river just so happens to drain from._

Not his day. Not his day at all.

The ground shakes with the imminent threat of large, shady, and violently aggressive, and Qrow spins his weapon over his back and into his hand when something pummels him from behind. Ironwood’s somewhere to his left, his gun making an irritating whirring noise before he hears a Grimm whimper in pain, but Qrow’s got another griffin to worry about. 

He slices it neatly in half when he gets thrown to the side-- he rolls, catches his foot on the grass and digs in his heels, skidding to a halt in time to see the -Goliath- rear back, slam its feet into the ground-- he hears gunshots and shouting and stumbles, no purchase on the wet grass. The ground goes out from under him. 

Reflex moves faster than his mind, teeth of his scythe cutting into the stone in front of him, and where exactly did this cliff come from?

He’s hanging onto the handle, both hands slick with sweat and dew, panting for his life when he hears the blasts. Steady, one after another, and the Goliath above him shudders to the side, lists, falls-- disintegrates. 

There’s a screech, a roar, and he’s being hauled up by collar like a ragdoll. Flashes of black chase after them as Ironwood scales a tree like a set of low-incline stairs and how is someone so big so goddamn fast?

Qrow just has a lot of questions about James Ironwood.

None of which he feels in the position to ask, the guy’s hand over his mouth and all. 

“Shhhh,” he hisses, gun in his hand strapped across Qrow’s chest to keep him still. They’re hiding. In a tree. “Keep quiet. And try not to think. They’ll notice your anger.”

Qrow’s nerves tick up at that- this isn’t entirely his fault. They were ill-equipped for all of this! Fuck Ozpin and his stupid mission, sending half his team and giving Summer and Tai some ultra-secret--

“I said try not to think. They’re getting closer.”

“How can you even tell?” Qrow hisses, squinting at the leaves.

“Can you please just think of something positive?” James’ breath ghosts over Qrow’s ear and makes him shiver, bite his lip. 

“I sure can,” he swallows, glancing down at the criminally large hand now just squeezing that stupid silver gun. He shifts his weight and turns, propping himself up on a branch, and looks up at cold blue eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to m--” he whispers before Qrow’s holding his face and kissing him. Distractions, right? Positive ones. A good kiss in a tree, that’s romantic. James goes stiff and then relaxes all at once, sitting statue-still in the foliage as Qrow presses positively chaste kisses over his face. James' face has that cutting edge of stubble but his lips are soft, his cheeks are wet but burning hot from running and Qrow has to count to ten so he doesn't stay there kissing the guy for hours. He smells like dirt and gunmetal and something else that makes Qrow's hair stand on end.  
Oh, fuck.

He’s got a grin to cut glass on his face when he hears another demonic whimper and his sister’s voice, off in the distance.

“What was. That was…?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Qrow laughs, slipping right out of the tree and James’ grasp. The guy’s face is bright red, and Qrow’s still laughing to himself as he looks over the edge of the cliff, hands on his hips. “Hey, tall, dark, and handsome! Help me get this thing up here!”

Raven scoffs at his side (making him jump _again_ ) and pulls an absolutely sick move with her katana that lets her swing down and dislodge his scythe-- no fair, why is she the cool sibling-- and so what if she thinks he meant her. James still hasn’t come out of the tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be much longer but I like were it ends? I hope it's satisfying, haha.


End file.
